On Butlers and Betrothals
by Pairadox Timeline
Summary: It's Christmas time and the TARDIS wants a break! The Ninth Doctor, Rose, and Jack visit the 1920's and run into some interesting characters.
1. What Not to Wear

Our Christmas collaboration, posted today in honor of Catyuy's birthday!

**

* * *

On Butlers and Betrothals**

_Chapter 1: What Not to Wear (And Where Not to Wear It)_

"She threw us out." Jack, sprawled across the pavement, made this comment with the air of one far too shocked to even comprehend offense.

"Yes, I know," replied a Manchester accent from somewhere off to Jack's left.

"She threw all three of us out," the American accent observed again, and now it was edging toward the offended.

"Yes, I know," said a London Cockney that the street it was fetched up upon would not hear for another fifty years.

"She's thrown us out, on the pavement, and locked the door behind us!" Jack's voice was loud, indignant, and definitely moving toward anger.

"Yes, I know," replied the two British accents simultaneously, and they had skipped anger entirely and gone for exasperated.

"Can't you say something besides 'Yes, I know'?" the Captain demanded.

"Can't you say anything I don't already know?" the Doctor shot back, hotly, and sat up.

Jack sighed and looked around while the Doctor helped Rose to her feet. "At least she thought to pack us a bag," he said, noting the three small valises toppled haphazardly in front of the double doors.

"Lovely," said Rose. She turned to the locked door of the Police Box they were unceremoniously dumped in front of mere moments ago. "Please, please let us in?" she asked nicely.

"It's no good," the Doctor said with a sour expression and an even more sour gesture at his normally quite spoiled ship. "She's convinced the life support has melted down. She'll let us back in whenever the hell She wants." He kicked the door, then bounced on one foot and swore. The door split open for just one second, long enough to chuck three large hatboxes and a small garment bag out on top of the rest of the luggage. "Oh for…" He degenerated into alien swearing, quietly, and leaned against the nearest wall, staring accusingly at the box.

When it didn't open again in ten minutes, Jack said, quite tentatively in order not to set the Time Lord off again, "I think the first order of business is to find food and shelter."

"I think the first order of business," said Rose, her tone quite annoyed, "is getting me off the street, quickly and quietly."

The Doctor's head shot up and Jack followed his line of sight to where a woman was looking at Rose as if she was a nightmare from hell. "London, early twenties," the Doctor observed, chagrinned.

The two men turned to look at Rose in her skintight baby-doll tee and her short skirt. "Good idea," they both said.

* * *

"Aunt Dahlia always does throw the most smashing Christmas parties in all of England," Bertram Wilberforce Wooster stated enthusiastically. He stood in front of a mirror with his chin up in the air as he fiddled expertly with a bow tie.

"Indeed, sir. Mrs. Travers has a kind of knack for bringing out jolly tendencies in all that she meets," a measured voice said from his side. The moment Bertie had gotten the tie to his satisfaction, the impeccably groomed man with neatly combed black hair presented a garment. "Your coat, sir."

"Thank you, Jeeves."

In a moment the tall, thin, almost lanky young man of obvious means was strolling briskly down the pavement, occasionally twirling his walking stick. He entered a building that declared itself the Drones Club, and handed his hat and stick to the man, George. He entered the bar room to a rousing cry of "Bertie!" as several of his mates noticed his arrival.

"What ho, Gussy, Barmy, Bingo, Tuppy," He walked over to the bar and ordered a tall drink.

"You missed lunch, Bertie," Gussy said. "It was a wonderful steak and kidney pie."

"Yes, well, I'm only here for a quick drop before I must drive down to Brinkley Court for the annual bash," Bertie said in an almost dejected tone before taking a long drink.

"But you love those parties, Bertie, you've always said so," Bingo said almost accusingly as if Bertie had been caught lying to him.

"Besides," Tuppy interjected. "I shall be coming down next week to join you all."

"Oh yes, how are things with you and Cousin Angela?" Bertie asked on cue.

"She's an angel, as you well know."

"Of course. It will be good to see her again. But most people won't be arriving for several days, and Aunt Agatha is already there."

The other men winced sympathetically.

"I see what you mean," Tuppy said. "But why not just put off your trip for a few days?"

"I can't," Bertie replied with a kind of morose resolve. "Aunt Dahlia asked me to come down early to help prepare Brinkley Court. I think she just wants the use of Jeeves." Bertie drained the drink in a last gulp and set it down on the bar with a thud. "Well gang, I'm off. Jeeves will have the car ready by now, and it doesn't do to keep him waiting. Toodle pip."

* * *

The Doctor was looking in on an old friend of his to secure emergency lodgings, though Jack suspected "looking in on" could mean anything from "bribing and bullying" to "breaking and entering". Jack, meanwhile, was raiding the Time Agency's account at one of the local banks.

The Doctor didn't have as easy a time of it here where the computers he manipulated so readily had not yet been invented. He'd insisted there was something he could do, but Jack was sure this would be best if they divided and conquered.

"Captain Jack Harkness!" came a woman's voice from across the lobby of the bank.

Jack startled, then turned to find an older woman with a slender face and features still quite lovely in late maturity. He was absolutely certain he'd never seen the woman before in his life. Being a time traveler, however, and a good one, he knew that didn't mean she'd never met him, so he gave the woman his very best smile.

"My goodness!" the woman exclaimed as she approached him more closely. Her figure was exquisite, Jack decided, bringing to mind the celebrities of the time. "You look almost exactly like him," the woman finished, smiling admiringly into his eyes.

Jack offered the woman a hand. "I get that a lot," he said cheerfully. "Captain Jack Harkness."

"Oh, no, you couldn't possibly be," the woman said, waving as if to wave him away. "No, the man I knew would have been old enough to be your father, dear boy."

Jack let his sincerity and pheromones tick up a notch and nodded happily. "Probably was my father, then," Jack agreed. He considered the woman with a careful eye and then gave her his best flirtatious smile. "I've heard he had an eye for pretty girls when he was here, but no one said he'd been robbing cradles."

"Oh, you even sound just like him. Great heavens." The woman fanned herself, and blushed a bit, though it wasn't quite clear with her ruddy complexion. "Your father was a charmer and a bit of a rogue, Captain Harkness, and being around him was like finally seeing sunshine. I'm Dahlia Travers, though it was Dahlia Wooster when I knew your father."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Travers," Jack said.

"Are you stationed in London, Captain?" Mrs. Travers asked, taking Jack's arm and allowing him to escort her.

"Oh, I'm on leave. I've come in from the continent with some friends for the holidays…"

The woman beamed as if the Captain had given her a gift. "Oh, you simply must bring your friends and come down to Brinkley Court for Christmas, Captain."

Jack looked to Mrs. Travers, opening his mouth to back out.

* * *

"Whaddya mean we're goin' ta Worcestershire?" the Doctor demanded, running fingers across a dark, dusty bookcase in the small house he'd found them in north London.

"This place is tragic," Rose said, appearing briefly on her tour of the house. "I'm sorry, it'll take me days to fix it, I don't…" She took the end of her sentence with her as she left the room.

"Seriously, guys, let's just go to this Brinkley Court," Jack said. "She's a nice lady, says she knows my dad."

Rose reappeared from another room and blinked at Jack. "Does she?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Why, exactly, did you agree to this?" the Doctor demanded. Rose threw her hands in the air and vanished again, this time through a set of pocket doors that led into a cobweb infested study.

The Doctor towered over Jack. "There's no tellin' what Rose'll need in a place like that, all those curls, an' fittings, and corsets…" The Doctor firmly told himself that he didn't care in the slightest that Rose in a corset was quite easily the stuff of dreams but the look Jack shot him told him the Captain saw that too clearly.

"Do women still wear corsets?" Jack asked.

"Depends on the dress," Rose called from heaven knew where.

The Doctor refused to let himself or Jack give that any thought. "How'd she talk you into it?"

Jack blinked at him. "I've got no clue," he admitted.

"Well, we're not going," the Doctor said firmly. "We'll stay right here 'til the TARDIS is fixed an' then we're leavin'. There is no force on Earth can persuade me ta gate crash some party…"

Two hours later, the Doctor was driving a hired car with Rose in the passenger seat buried in warm clothes and still looking around like she was being taken to the fair.


	2. Keeping Up Appearances

**On Butlers and Betrothals**

_Chapter 2: Keeping Up Appearances_

When Rose was eight years old, her class had taken an outing to Windsor Castle. Each student had to bring 15 quid to cover the cost of admission, transportation, and lunch. Jackie had promised to give her the money so that she could go with her friends. For two weeks before the trip, Mickey had regaled Rose with stories of what he'd seen on his class trip. Rose had talked of little else.

The night before the trip, Jackie had come home late after Rose had gone to bed. Rose awoke before her alarm went off the next morning, jumping out of bed and hurrying to wake her mum.

But Jackie had been invited to go to the pub with some friends and had forgotten all about going by the bank for cash. Rose had been proud of herself that she didn't cry as her friends got on the bus.

As she rode up the drive of a huge sandstone house in an antique Bentley next to the man who meant more to her than anyone, with her best friend in the backseat, Rose knew that every disappointment was worth it, because without them she might not have met the Doctor. And life with him was better than anything she had ever wanted growing up.

"Leave the bags in the car, Rose. Wouldn't do for you to be seen carryin' your own things," he Doctor said, opening his door.

Now that Rose thought of it, her mother had probably not even had the fifteen pounds. Rather than clue Rose in to the fact that even Mickey's gran was better off than they were (and she was on a pension) Jackie would have rather let Rose think she'd just forgotten. Keeping up appearances. Just like now.

"I told Dahlia you were Rose's guardian," Jack said, as he got out and the two of them stood in the open passenger side door. "I didn't want them to think she was just running around with a couple single guys."

"Just as well," Rose said with a resigned shrug. Jack could usually be counted on to try to get her and the Doctor as close together as possible, for reasons he had never adequately explained.

"S'pose," the Doctor said. He looked oddly disappointed about something, but Rose was sure it probably had something to do with the fact that he couldn't strangle Jack for this one.

The huge wooden doors to the house opened and the Doctor immediately shifted to his gentleman mode. Rose was handed neatly out of the car, and made quite comfortable on the Doctor's leather-clad arm before the two men who had come outside had even reached the car.

"Good evening, Captain Harkness," said the older gentleman who started forward first. "Mrs. Travers requested I show you to your rooms where you may freshen up before joining her in the drawing room." The man took the grips of some of the bags.

The younger, taller man with him, with the legacy-of-a-misspent-youth nose and the perfectly parted dark hair nodded to them all before he collected the rest of the luggage. Rose, struck silent by the awe of the whole thing, let the Doctor lead her as if she'd been born in this time period and expected it.

She'd collected herself, however, by the time the older gentleman had taken Jack and his luggage up one staircase. The younger gentleman gestured Rose to a separate, newer-looking stair, and then down a hall on the second floor.

"This room has been prepared for the young lady," the man said, opening the door and neatly placing Rose's suitcase and garment bag inside. "Miss Angela's room is just next door, so you will be in good company. Your room, Sir, is just back at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you," the Doctor said. "Didn't catch your name?"

The man gave the Doctor a startled blink, looked him over, and went a sort of shocked pale. Rose wondered if this meant he was actually only just now seeing the Time Lord clearly. The look on the butler's face seemed to indicate just that.

"Jeeves, sir," the man said, looking at the Doctor with his eyes quite wide.

Rose hid a snicker behind her hand as the Doctor introduced himself and Rose in turn. "Very good, sir," Jeeves said. "If you would care to join the Captain and Mrs. Travers in the drawing room, it is just down the stairs and to the right."

As the man walked away from them, looking something between horrified and agonized, Rose distinctly heard him say, "Leather_ jacket_," as if it was a thing more evil than the Daleks. She gave up and giggled.

* * *

"This is my nephew, Bertie Wooster," the lady of the house introduced a young man who came into the drawing room just before the Doctor.

"What ho," the young man in question greeted cheerfully.

The smile the Captain turned on the young man made the Doctor wince. He just knew they were going to get thrown out. Jack was going to seduce everyone and the draperies and…

"Oh, there you are, Doc." Jack interrupted the Doctor's train of thought by beckoning him further into the room. "Everyone, this is the Doctor. Doctor, Dahlia Travers, who very kindly invited us, Mrs. Gregson, her sister, and Mr. Wooster, her nephew."

"Dr. Tyler," the woman introduced as Mrs. Travers said.

The Doctor twitched and then forced a smile. "Just the Doctor, thanks," he said. "Rose's father and I were workin' together when he passed." He let the rest remain implied, not wanting to bring Rose's father into the conversation too much, simply because it hurt her, but also wanting to divert the conversation from his name. "Thank you for having us."

Mrs. Gregson was staring at the Doctor like he was exactly what he was – an alien from outer space. Mrs. Travers smiled a decidedly forced smile. "What exactly do you do… Doctor?" she asked with that same strained tone.

"I'm a scientist," he said, filling his tone with apology. "By necessity a bit reclusive. Rose can't get enough of the social scene but I'm rarely able to bring her to England."

Mrs. Travers and even Mrs. Gregson to a much lesser extent suddenly shifted to full-on sympathy and interest. "Good lord!" Mr. Wooster exclaimed. "India, then, I dare say?"

The Doctor nodded amicably. "Some. Did a bit in South Africa as well. Ever been there, anyone?"

"I daresay I shall be sending all of my nephews there if the consistently deplorable behavior I've seen from them, one and all, does not improve," Mrs. Gregson said with a look of extreme distaste to one of the mentioned nephews.

Mr. Wooster flinched. "I say, Aunt Agatha," he protested.

There was a difficult silence for a moment and then Mrs. Travers said, "Tell us how you came to be in England this time… Doctor." She seemed to pause every time she addressed him, possibly because she didn't know what to make of his having a title for a name.

The Doctor shot a quick look that begged for help from Jack. "Met the Captain here in America. We go way back. Rose insisted on coming along with him. It's just as well we did." The Doctor really wished Rose would arrive, if for no other reason than that she was good at changing the subject very quickly back to other people and keeping it there. The Doctor couldn't remember ever having had that skill, not in social situations.

Mrs. Gregson gave the Captain an extremely dubious look, though the Doctor was starting to think that all of her expressions were dubious. "Are we to gather that there is some understanding between yourself and the young lady, Captain Harkness?" she asked grandly.

Jack gave a light laugh and his most fetching smile. "Oh, no. I've only one love of my life!"

"Himself," said Rose's voice lightly from the doorway.

"She's jealous," Jack confided teasingly, and then, like the gentleman he was decent at pretending to be, he took Rose's arm and led her forward to introduce her. The Doctor noticed with some surprise that Mrs. Travers and Mrs. Gregson both seemed to be looking her over as if considering a purchase.

"Dahlia, do excuse me," said Mrs. Gregson, filling up the entire room as she stood like a Field Marshall. "I simply must go draft a letter to Lord Yaxley."

"Of course, Agatha dear. Do tell George to arrive on time this year, won't you?"

"Absolutely," said Mrs. Gregson, and she walked off like a cat that's certain it's been offered substandard fare for the evening meal.

"Impossible woman," Mrs. Travers muttered, as soon as Mrs. Gregson could be safely believed to be out of earshot. "Honestly, there's no pleasing her." The Doctor wondered if the woman even realized she was speaking so about her sister at all. Then, she spoke up and he was almost sure she did not. "Bertie, do be a dear and show Miss Tyler around the grounds this afternoon, won't you?"

"Delighted of course," the young man said, and gave Rose a sunny smile, which was returned with a blinding one. The Doctor tried not to wince visibly.

Jeeves entered just then with a tray of drinks. "May I offer you refreshment, milord?" he asked the Doctor.

The Time Lord blinked at the butler incredulously. Guests were served first, by rank and gender. Rose would normally have been first, then Jack, then the Doctor, but apparently, Jeeves knew something he couldn't possibly do. The Doctor decided that questioning the man here and now would only result in questions about their background and therefore trouble, so he didn't refute it, merely took the offered glass of wine.

As Jeeves served, everyone else looked at the Doctor as incredulously as the Doctor had looked at Jeeves. "Don't usually advertise that, Jeeves," he said at last to forestall any questions.

"Yes, milord," the valet replied with a sardonic little quirk of a smile.

"Jeeves knows everything," Wooster said. Dahlia Travers nodded agreeably.

"Couldn't argue that," Rose agreed, still a little stunned.

"You're too kind, sir, Miss Tyler."

Wooster smiled brightly. "It's all the fish he eats," the young man asserted. "I'm quite sure of that."

"Ah," said the Doctor, and didn't quite know what else to make of that.


	3. The Bachelor

So happy to have readers excited for this little lark, and we hope we can keep you entertained though the holidays are almost over. With the arrival of 2011, we expect more writing time to be available to one of us, so we live in hope of all kinds of good things!

Meanwhile, lets head back to Brinkley Court...

Drink a toast to the Doctor, folks... he may need one.

* * *

**On Butlers and Betrothals**

_Chapter 3: The Bachelor_

"Jeeves, how did you know that that Doctor fellow was a lord?" Bertie asked amicably as he dressed for dinner.

"We of the Ganymede Club believe that it is best that we know whom we are addressing at all times. I recognized his description from the Book." Thoughtfully, Jeeves explained, "He has been mentioned by many different members."

"Ah, yes," Bertie remarked with a grin, "the famous Ganymede Club book."

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves agreed with something that was as close to gusto as he came. "I must say, though," he continued as if to himself, "they never said anything about his manner of expressing himself, nor did they mention his… attire." Bertie knew it was only that very stern sense of propriety that kept Jeeves from shuddering visibly.

Bertie was just buttoning his evening jacket when there was an imperious knock at the door. Jeeves opened it with his usual poise, and stepped to the side with the smallest suggestion of a bow.

"Good evening, madam," he said as he moved aside to admit their guest. To Bertie, he added, "Mrs. Gregson, sir."

Bertie smothered a grimace before turning around. "Aunt Agatha! To what do I owe this surprise, Ancient A? I was just getting ready for din…"

"Oh do stop blathering, Bertie," Aunt Agatha ordered, politely but firmly shoving her terrier, Macintosh, into Jeeves' waiting hands. (Macintosh was a dreadfully spoiled creature, but at least it wasn't mean spirited like some Bertie had known, and it did rather fancy both himself and Jeeves.)

"Yes, Aunt Agatha," Bertie responded with a gulp.

"I'll be speaking to Doctor –" she trailed off with a face somewhat more annoyed than usual (which was saying something if Bertie did _not _say so himself) "-the Doctor later this evening, but I'll expect you to begin immediately."

Bertie was baffled. "Begin what, Aunt Agatha?"

"That girl, Rose Tyler. She obviously comes from good stock, possibly the London Tylers, or perhaps the Devonshire ones, I'm not certain." Aunt Agatha made an impatient gesture as if to send off the name as an irrelevancy. "She must be of strong will to have survived with no company beyond her guardian and his associates. He didn't even have the decency to marry for the girl's sake. Now, I've said it before, Bertie: you need a strong willed woman to mold you into anything resembling a civilized human." Bertie stared up at his aunt in dread and horror. A sort of choking noise was all that emerged from his gaped mouth.

"It's a shame about her lack of social graces," Mrs. Gregson continued. "But she seems bright enough to catch on quickly. I never thought that you would have anything to offer a young lady of any worth, but you can give Miss Tyler society and connections. Now, Bertie, I've heard that you can be charming, though I can't imagine how. You will court Miss Tyler. I want to hear of your engagement by the end of this year's festivities, Bertie."

Bertie finally found his voice. "Dash it all, Aunt Agatha-"

"Don't use such foul language in front of me, Bertram!" Mrs. Gregson snapped.

"I am not your toy to be married off to any young girl that strikes your fancy!" Bertie erupted in a rare state of defiance.

"Bertram Wilberforce Wooster, you have been a child long enough. It is far past time for you to fulfill your obligations to your family and yourself. You must marry, and I have decided it will be this girl." Agatha Gregson stood and swept from the room with all the force of a locomotive, pausing only long enough to reclaim her baffled looking little pet.

Bertie stood and looked helplessly over at Jeeves. All the brief thunder he had managed to summon had been stolen entirely by the clouds of doom that hallmarked the departure of Agatha Gregson. Defeated, he asked, "Why is it, Jeeves, that I can't turn around without my Aunt Agatha trying to marry me off to the nearest unwed female?"

Jeeves brought him a well-mixed drink on a neat tray, which Bertie accepted as the mercy it was. "It is the nature of aunts to wish to secure the future of their nephews, sir."

"Yes, but why _me_,Jeeves? She's plenty of other nephews to meddle with and for the next few, at least, they'll all be within reach."

"But, sir, you forget that you are…I regret to be so crude, but…the nephew in the most advantageous position, financially speaking. To quote the beloved female author, 'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.'"

"Well, dash it all, I, for one, am in want of a few less aunts."

"Very good, sir," Jeeves said, not so much agreeing, perhaps, as allowing Bertie his annoyance and perhaps admitting that it was reasonable.

Bertie took a long sip of his drink, then finished it altogether, and then set it down, only to have it whisked away by the insistently tidy valet. Thoughtfully, he admitted, "I may need your help, Jeeves."

"Indeed, sir." Jeeves said, a worried frown on even his face.

* * *

After dinner, a marvelous concoction that was created by Mrs. Travers' much-praised French chef, Anatole, everyone collected in the drawing room. Bertie settled himself at the piano and played several of his favorite songs, without the words, of course, since Mrs. Gregson had never been known to approve of any modern music lyrics.

The Doctor was trying to enjoy himself. After all, he'd meant to take Rose to a proper Christmas party for almost as long as he'd known her. And she was enjoying herself here, that much was plain to see. She was practically cooing over Bertie's skill. The Doctor gritted his teeth.

"I've always wanted to learn," Rose said wistfully.

"Did you?" Bertie stood. "Well, have a seat, then. We'll have you playing Rachmaninoff in no time."

Rose smiled shyly and sat. Excitement vibrated in the air around her. The Doctor barely kept from snarling at the young man who had caught her attention this time. It was always a young man.

The Doctor could have taught her to play any number of instruments, but she hadn't told him her wish. So, it was Bertie Wooster's hands that placed hers over the keys, and it was Bertie Wooster who got to lean over her to point out which note corresponded to which finger.

The Doctor turned away. He knew that he wouldn't have taught her. He wouldn't let himself that close to her, it wasn't safe.

Turning away from the grin Rose gave Bertie, the Doctor nearly bumped into Mrs. Gregson.

"Dr….Doctor." She began with a forced smile. The Doctor just looked at her. "I have a proposal for you." The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "It's regarding your ward, Rose."

"What about her?" the Doctor asked guardedly.

"Well, she's a lovely girl." The Doctor nodded. Everyone loved Rose; she shone. "But she needs society," Mrs. Gregson went on, a canny and determined sort of faint smile on her stern face. "My nephew, Bertie, has taken a shine to her."

"Has he?"

"Of course," Mrs. Gregson said imperiously. Rose's laugh rang out from the piano. "And she seems fond of him already. It will be a good match."

The Doctor forced down the urge to snap that he couldn't have her, that Rose was his and always would be. Another laugh. Other companions had fallen in love and left before. It wouldn't be any different. He smothered the voice that laughed at how he lied to himself.

"It would be Rose's decision," he said through gritted teeth. "I won't stand in her way."

That seemed to be enough for Agatha Gregson.

Jack looked over and caught the Doctor's eye. The conman raised his eyebrows and smiled pointedly as if to say that they were guests and if the Doctor didn't start acting like he was enjoying himself, he might just get them kicked out. After all, they'd already been thrown out of the TARDIS.

The Doctor sighed and fastened on his most polite expression before seeking out the man, Jeeves, to find out how, exactly, a valet knew who he was.


End file.
